


A Flaw in My Code

by AnotherWorld3111, KaenNoMai



Series: i've got you brother [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Whump, Depressed Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e16 Shadow, Episode: s02e22 All Hell Breaks Loose, Episode: s08e10 Torn and Frayed, Episode: s09e13 The Purge, Gen, Hallucinations, Hopeful Ending, Hurt, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Post-Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 11, Stanford Era, Suicidal Dean Winchester, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Worried Benny, Worried Sam Winchester, Wow, but i might be bias, its good I promise, these are dark, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 16:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenNoMai/pseuds/KaenNoMai
Summary: Ten times Dean tried to kill himself.And the one time Sam stopped him.





	A Flaw in My Code

**Author's Note:**

> AW3111: KAENNOMAI AND I HAD A BLAST WITH THIS. I also could not focus on anything else until I was done with this. But seriously, we had so much fun. Honest to god, I would start a line, and she’d just finish  
> kaen: the sentence. like sandwiches. food. yes.  
> AW3111: #madeforeachother  
> kaen: a good time was had by all.  
> AW3111: And a damn good time it was too  
> kaen: high five. this was awesome.  
> AW3111: I am in love. Also, I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to write an entire fic by myself again after this.  
> kaen: you could finally read what i wrote before i fini–  
> AW3111: I KNOW

  1. Flagstaff



Dean knew he messed up. He knew he messed up the moment he returned to the motel room, only to find it absolutely empty.

Additionally, he knew he was screwed when he realized things were a little too meticulous, where Sammy’s stuff was supposed to be. 

Which left only one explanation, and Dean did not want to look into that, not right now, not until he found Sammy and dragged him back home, but preferably not ever.

Except, almost two weeks later, when he still couldn’t find Sammy, Dean picked up the phone, heart sinking to the very depths of his gut in dread.

“Dad? It’s… it’s Sammy, sir. I…”

Dad had never returned from a hunt so quick, and Dean was fairly sure that Dad wasn’t even done with it. It would explain the silent glares Dad kept sending Dean everytime he had to rustle through some papers in his duffle before grabbing onto whatever he needed. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why Dad locked him in the motel room, but over the years, Dean would never really pay much attention to that. Not when the next few hours overshadowed the memory, up until Dad returned with Sam, anyway.

But until that moment came, Dean could only focus on the white tiles in front of him. His hands shook, the knife trembling in his loose grip. 

Seconds, minutes, hours may have passed, before Dean started to tighten his grip. 

Swallowing, he brought it to his wrist–

The front door to the motel room slamming open could be heard throughout the entire building.

 

* * *

 

  1. Leaving for Stanford



“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!” Dad yelled at Sam’s retreating figure. Dean saw Sam’s figure pause at the threshold of the door, but then continue on. Dean slowly sank to the ground, trembling as the shock and horror overwhelmed him. 

Dad continued to shout abuse at his younger son as Sam walked away from the motel, head up and back straight. 

Dean, unnoticed by the other two, shakily retreated back to the bathroom, locking it behind him. 

_ His little brother was leaving - leaving hunting, leaving Dad, leaving the family, leaving  _ him. 

First, it was Mom. Dean had forgiven her the second she left, still clutching tightly to the warm, fuzzy memories of better times. But she had still left, leaving Dad adrift and Sam motherless.

Dad… well, Dad left every fucking weekend, as often as he could get away. There was always another hunt, another monster that needed killing, another person in need of saving. There was always another excuse to keep him away from Dean.

Dean had thought that Sam would always be with him, in the same boat. But not only had Sam up and left without a note during the worst two weeks of Dean’s life, but now he was leaving for good. Leaving without even a backwards glance, shattering what little hope that remained in Dean that Sam wasn’t leaving  _ Dean _ , specifically. He was leaving hunting. But Dean could no longer keep up that charade. 

Sam was  _ leaving _ . For good.

Dean fell to the floor, legs collapsing beneath him and letting out a strangled sob. The sound was ugly, half caught in his throat, fighting Dean as he tried to suppress the sound. 

As he pressed himself in the corner, curling up in such a tight ball that his muscles protested, he felt his Colt press into his back, crushed between the wall and his shaking body. 

He raised his head as a half formed idea crossed his mind, from the last time Sammy left…

Dean grabbed his gun, metal gleaming from when he had spent hours cleaning and slaving over it to make sure it never jammed. 

His hands, which had been shaking uncontrollably before, had now calmed to an almost unnoticeable tremble, hands grasping the metal like it was his lifeline. 

He watched, detached, as his hands flicked off the safety and brought the gun to his head. 

_ Bang! _

Dad pounded on the locked bathroom door, threatening to come off its hinges.“Dean! We’re leaving!” Was all Dad said, voice simmering with rage.

Dean flicked the safety back on and let the gun drop to the floor, pressing his face into his knees. A moment passed – all the time Dean would give himself – before he stood, picked the Colt back up, and holstered it back in his waistband.

He opened the door, mask firmly in place, like a good little soldier.

 

* * *

 

  1. Stanford Hunt



Dean tried not to blink. Every time he did, all the people he had failed to save flashed before his eyes. Their blank, accusing eyes always fixed on Dean’s. 

He had let too many people die tonight.

Dean grabbed his hair where it was longest in the front and  _ pulled _ , trying to get those fucking eyes away from him. 

His hands were covered in blood, his body practically weeping, injuries across his torso protesting with each movement. He tasted salt, but he couldn’t tell if it was blood or tears running down his face, and was too wound up to care.

He just wanted to stop – to  _ forget. _

His wild, desperate eyes frantically searched the small room for something – anything that he could use…

There.

The bottle of pills that Dad had accidentally left behind the last time they had seen each other a couple of months back. 

He hesitated for only a moment. 

Dad wouldn’t care. Sammy wouldn’t care. 

Dean launched himself towards the pill bottle on the opposite side of the room, heedless of his injuries. His shaking hands had to try three times to get the little bottle open, but as soon as it was, Dean was downing the pills like it was water and he was a man who had been dehydrated for  _ months _ . 

One pill after another went sliding down the bottle and into his throat. 

From there, it kind of went fuzzy. One moment he was guzzling pills, and the next he had thrown himself over the toilet, gasping and heaving as his body tried to purge itself of the poison he had willingly swallowed. 

His throat ached as the medication came back up, his vomit foaming and burning. Even as Dean gasped for breath, tears streamed down his face, he watched all of his hard work be destroyed. 

His vision started to blur and darken around the edges, and as Dean toppled over sideways he briefly hoped that at the very least, maybe he would choke and die. 

Not even twenty four hours later, Dean startled awake to the sound of his phone going off. 

He spared one second to mourn his failed attempt, before heaving himself up off the ground and wiping at his mouth, spit and blood and…  _ something _ , still covering his face and body. 

_ Got a hunt. Meet up in two days. _

Dean quickly texted Dad back.  _ Got it. _

Looked like he would need a shower.

 

* * *

 

  1. Shadow



“But things will never be the way they were before.”

Dean’s heart practically stopped. There was no way his brother could have been implying what Dean thought he was implying… could there?

“Could be,” Dean tried, because damnit, he had to try, he couldn’t, he couldn’t let this slip free from his fingers when he was  _ so close  _ to having things get back to normal, when he was so close to getting Sammy back…

And yet, with his brother’s next words, Dean’s stomach sank. “I don’t want them to be.” He couldn’t breathe, his vision was going white, his ears were starting to ring, except he could still hear his brother, still hear Sammy as he went on to relentlessly crush Dean’s motivation for his entire life without realizing it.

“I’m not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.” Sam met Dean’s gaze, returning it evenly. 

And despite doing his best to maintain his uncaring facade, Dean could tell his mask was cracking, right alongside his own will. 

If Sam wasn’t going to be with him on this, if Sam was just going to go back to Stanford where, for all intents and purposes, he’d be mostly safe… then what purpose did Dean have? What use did Dean have to keep going?

He really didn’t have anything.

Swallowing, Dean looked away, his eyes sliding to the side, away from Sam… and landing on his gun.

He blinked, the movement slow. 

If Sam, Sammy, his little brother had no need for Dean…

Then who did?

 

* * *

 

  1. Interlude I: All Hell Breaks Loose



Dean surged forward and sealed the deal with a kiss. He knew he had just damned himself for eternity, but Dean knew instinctively that he would happily do it again. 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when the deal was done. He hadn’t lost anything, not really. He got Sammy back, and he would die within the year. 

(If Sam wondered why Dean wasn’t too concerned with saving himself, well. Dean wouldn’t tell him the truth.)

 

* * *

 

  1. Swan Song



Some days the gun seemed too attractive to be healthy to Dean. Those were the days he was reminded of Sam. When he remembered with all too much clarity of how he let his little brother jump into the cage with  _ Lucifer _ for eternity. 

He would imagine all the horror and pain his little brother was going through, with no hope of ever being released.

And despite the awful feeling it gave him, he desperately hoped that Sam’s mind was broken already, so far gone that Sammy wouldn’t feel the pain he was going through. 

Most days he got all the way to flicking the safety off and pressing it so hard into his head that there was a circle indent from the barrel of his gun. 

_ You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean. Promise me. _

And Dean would let out an exhausted, choked out sob and curse his little brother for making Dean promise to live. To live where there was no danger of dying from an accident. 

But that day when Dean forgot, however briefly, where his little brother was, he was so horrified with himself that he had to run to the nearest bathroom where he couldn’t stop his stomach from dispelling what felt like everything he had ever consumed in his entire life. 

His whole body was trembling, fingers clutching onto the cold porcelain like it was his lifeline. 

“Sammy,” Dean moaned quietly, banging his head onto the cabinets beside where he sat, huddled into himself. “I’m so sorry.”

How could he have forgotten? How could he have let himself forget, even for a moment, what his little brother was going through, where he had willingly condemned himself with Lucifer?

He banged his head against the wood again. 

_ Why had he let Sammy do this? Why hadn’t he taken Sam’s place? Why did it have to be him? _

With everything he had done, he was sure that he would end up right back in Hell. 

He grabbed his gun and his finger stroked the trigger consideringly. He wouldn’t say yes this time.

It wouldn’t be anything like what Sam was going through, but he hoped that at some point he would lose his mind, too.

“Dean?” Lisa’s voice carried barely concealed panic from the other side of the door. “Dean, Ben wants to help you work on the car today. Do you think you can go help him?”

_ Promise me, Dean. _

 

* * *

 

  1. Purgatory



Sometimes it was quiet.

Just aimless walking, ears working to the max, eyes darting from side to side, never staying at one spot for too long. His blade was a reassuring weight in his hand, but even then, the hair on the back of his neck was practically floating with tension. Dean long learned that there was no point in looking behind him. His ears could cover him on that front quite well, need be. 

And his guts. Which could have been self preservation, seeing as he was quite content in keeping his guts within himself. 

But sometimes…

Sometimes Purgatory showed its true colors. 

It was crazy. It was hectic. And there would barely be a moment to breathe, only one monster rushing after the other after the other, until they retreated again for the time being, should Dean be left still standing. During those times, his senses would go to autopilot, not really paying much attention to what he was hearing, what he was seeing, what he could feel – but that was only because he was too busy reacting to them. Swirling around, ducking, dodging, punching, kicking. Stabbing, gutting, impaling, defending himself. 

His whole body would be in the zone, not a single cell in him distracted from fighting, from getting his way out, from living…

Except for when he forgot. 

There were times when he forgot. All he knew was that he kept having to move, to keep going forward, that there were times when he forgot what his drive even was. 

Sometimes, it would pop up again, visions of his brother smiling, dimples appearing, eyes shining, hair curling, every characteristic of his brother embedded deeply within Dean’s mind. 

Castiel, with his piercing blue eyes, gaze so intent as if he could look into Dean’s soul – and hell, he probably could – always putting his life on the line for Sam and Dean.

_ “Well, you know me. I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.” _

Sometimes, his mind would be numb. Blank. Frozen. Just this dryness at the back of his mouth, which was the only thing he could concentrate on, the pain at the corner of his eyes but within his head, his hands vibrating with pent up energy to… to do something. 

He forgot what. 

But as much as his mind blanked out, his body seemed to know what to do, always dredging forward, step, step, step. 

Duck. Whirl. Stab. On guard. Fight. 

Defend. 

Kill. 

Breathe. Look. Corpses around him, nothing else running around him… for now. 

Dean looked down at his feet, slowly coming back to his senses, tuning his mind back into his body. 

Red. On his shirt. It was blood… and it was his.

Oh.

Huh. 

Dean swallowed, looking back up, and taking a step – and instantly crumpled to his knees, narrowly avoiding bashing his head on a rock. His hands, on the other hand, started to tingle, the tell-tale sign that he most likely had several tiny yet sharp pebbles embedded within his palm, but Dean was starting to realize he had a bigger problem. 

Inhaling deeply, Dean pushed himself to his heels, pressing a hand down on the torn fabric at his side.

He winced, but continued applying pressure to his sliced skin. A few seconds passed before he deemed himself steady to stand again, but as his vision was starting to fade, Dean fell heavily against a tree.

It would be so easy, to just… slide down. Take a rest. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere in particular, not like someone needed–

Except. 

Except he did. And they did. Like Cas. Like Sam. And Dean was the one who had to get to them.

A grunt escaping him before he grit his teeth, Dean pushed himself away from the tree, staggering, but remaining upright. 

Minutes passed before he could crouch again, and though his vision was starting to fade at an alarmingly rapid pace, Dean ignored it in favor of working quickly, stripping a vampire of his shirt in order to wrap it around his own torso. 

Tying it into a knot, Dean plucked his blade off the ground from where it had fallen, and used it to stand.

“I’m coming, Cas.” 

He started walking.

 

* * *

 

  1. Torn and Frayed



Sam had given Dean a choice. 

And as much as it tore him apart, for all that Benny really had been a damn better brother to Dean in the past year, more than Sam was… 

Dean pulled at his hair, revolted with himself for even thinking that. 

There wasn’t even a decision that need to be made. Even if Sam himself drove a knife deep into Dean’s gut, he would always choose his brother even during his dying breath.

And like the Horn of Gabriel itself, Dean’s cell rang. 

Benny.

Swallowing, Dean pressed accept, holding the phone to his ear. 

“Dean. Thank you mightily, bud. I’m in a hard way here, but I think I’m getting close. Mind sending your coordinates, brotha’?” 

Dean hesitated. 

“I'm sorry, man. I, um... I'm not gonna make it.”

There was a slight pause on Benny’s end, and even that had Dean’s stomach swirling in a pool of guilt. “You mean now, or...?”

His eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, each word feeling like a stab of betrayal that he could feel on his own body rather than Benny’s. “Listen, Benny. Everything you've done for me, I will never forget,” Just as he was never going to forget this moment either, “but, uh…” Dean swallowed. “This is it.”

“End of the line?” And damn Benny for sounding so… understanding. Concerned… worried?

“End of the line.” Dean repeated, mind already miles away, and because of that, he didn’t register the tears starting to gather at his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” Benny seemed to scramble to regain his composure. “I never liked these cellphones anyway.” And there was the friend Dean knew, trying to cheer up Dean by aiming for levity, even though by all means Benny had the right to sound as betrayed as he should be feeling right now.

“You, uh…” Dean took a deep breath, not really noticing how shuddered it was. “You stay good, all right?”

“You too, Dean. And, uh... Thanks for the ride.” Why did Benny have to sound so apologetic, when it was Dean who should be down on his knees, begging for the forgiveness he didn’t even deserve?

“Yeah, man. Adios.” Dean cut the call, hating himself as he did so. He put his head in his hands, scrubbing his face harshly, as if the action could wipe away the guilt. 

But sitting here, scrubbing aimlessly at his skin wouldn’t wipe anything away, Dean knew that all too well. He also knew what exactly would work…

God, what was he doing? He thought briefly of Sam, but after Purgatory, well. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if his little brother cut him out of his life and chose to stay with Amelia. 

And Dean just cut out the only person who’d ever unconditionally had his back. With one final, severe scrub of his hands, Dean lifted his head. 

He walked out of the cabin, almost absent-mindedly unholstering his gun and casually flicking off the safety. 

With a final, deep breath, he swiftly brought the gun to his head and closed his eyes, feeling the fresh breeze on his neck like salvation.

His finger was on the trigger, and though his heart was thumping hard within his chest and it felt like his ribs were vibrating… His hand was absolutely steady, back casual and relaxed for the first time since Purgatory, and his breathing calm. 

His mind was blissfully blank, and for the first time since Purgatory, he wasn’t even aware of his surroundings.

Peace.

He started to squeeze the trigger…

The sound of an engine roaring as a car approached the cabin that he admittedly wasn’t too far from was a jolt to his senses, and his finger immediately released the trigger.

His eyes immediately flew open, and Dean pushed himself to his knees, spinning around and straining to see through the trees, despite it being as dark as the sky could get.

But even that wasn’t enough to deter Dean from being able to make out his brother’s figure in the distance, alit by the car’s headlights before whatever car Sam stole finally shut off behind him.

Sam.

His brother… came back.

Thoughts whirled around like a hurricane, most of them questions, some of them doubts, others were suspicions. Yet, as he made his way towards his brother, Dean found the voices fading away with each step that brought him closer to his brother. 

So intent as he was on Sam, he never noticed the fangs glinting in the moonlight, before being withdrawn so that human teeth could grit against each other with frustration and deep rooted concern.

 

* * *

 

  1. Interlude II: Benny warns Sam



He knew the trials were killing him. But that kind of went on the back burner when he realized that Bobby was in hell, and that Sam had to help Bobby escape to heaven… via Purgatory.

Purgatory. The very thought chilled Sam to the bones. Walking into Hell… it hadn’t been easy. But at least Sam knew what to expect, to a certain extent. 

Walking through Purgatory? His senses were alight in a way they hadn’t had to be in years, every part of him straining to sense any danger before the danger overtook him first. 

Bobby’s words didn’t help matters. He’d been trying not to think about it, too focused on getting them alive, but when Bobby essentially forced Sam to come to terms with it… 

“Dean, spent a year in this place?”

Swallowing uncomfortably, Sam couldn’t meet Bobby’s eyes. “Running and fighting, all day, every day.” The words were hard to push past his throat… but the fact remained that it was still the truth. 

God, his brother couldn’t have had even a moment of reprieve… 

“Must have been hell on you, not being able to get him out all that time. You did try?” And Bobby must have been trying to screw the nail in deeper, as if he knew, because there would be no way he would ask such a question if he didn’t. That didn’t make it any easier for Sam to come up with an answer, however.

“Look, Bobby… Dean and I had an agreement, okay?”

He didn’t have to hear the disbelief from Bobby’s next words because Sam could feel it erupt from Bobby seconds before. “I know that agreement. I taught you that agreement. That’s a non-agreement.” Sam could practically hear Dean’s voice saying those very same words. “I get the feeling a lot must have happened while I was gone.” 

And yeah, was that an understatement, because sure enough, the next thing Sam knew, he had to defend Benny, out of everyone, from being killed by Bobby.

And that yes, his brother was in his right mind when he befriended a  _ vampire. _

But even Sam had to grudgingly admit that Dean’s friendship came in useful, as Benny led them to the portal. Whilst he acknowledged it, Sam tried to not pay any heed to the niggling feeling in his gut, that something was wrong. Truth be told, something was always prone to go wrong around the Winchesters, so whilst the feeling would normally take the backburner, the flames seemed a little too persistent right now. The fact that Benny was in Purgatory which could mean only one thing was something else Sam was trying not to think about, right until Benny chose to stay behind. 

“Benny?” Sam asked, because sure, there may have been some lingering sense of unease whenever Benny was around, but he wasn’t heartless enough to leave Benny behind, especially after everything the vampire had done for them. 

“Go on. It’s me they want,” Benny tossed him a small smile. “Go on. You just make sure you tell Dean I said goodbye. I was never any good up there anyway.” 

And Sam wanted to protest, he really did, but there wasn’t any time–the vampires were approaching, so Sam did the only thing he could. 

“Benny, wait!” And when the vampire turned, he tossed him the blade. Sam had a feeling Benny was going to need it more than he would anyway. 

Catching it easily, Benny paused. “You keep an eye on your brother, you hear me?” 

Sam tilted his head, impatience making his vibrate with the need to move. But he didn’t need to promise that, not when he was already committed to it. “Of course.” He said, nonetheless.

But Benny still didn’t turn around, despite the vampires being way too close for Sam’s comfort. “No, you keep a close eye on him. I know that whatever differences you have, you may have had the right on your side to distance yourself, but for your brother’s sake… just. Keep watching him, alright? Dean… he’s never been in the best of places whenever there’s something wrong with you, god knows nothing will change that.” 

Sam nodded, his mouth dry, and he was about to open his mouth again to respond, to reaffirm his promise with renewed determination… but the vampires roared, and Benny ran headfirst to them. 

Sam turned and started climbing the rocks to the portal, his mind on Benny’s words even as he could hear Benny fighting behind him.

 

* * *

 

  1. Interlude III: The Purge



Every day it got harder to get up out of bed. His brother didn’t want anything to do with him, no longer cared if he was alive.

Each day the gun looked more attractive, the knives sharper, and the pain a little more deserved. Each day the shattered pieces of himself cracked a little more, the pressure unrelenting.

But first - Abaddon. Crowley. Gadreel. Metatron.

Then… Then he could free Sam and Cas from his miserable existence.

 

* * *

 

+1 Amara

 

They had just gotten back from Fall River, Massachusetts after learning that Amara was sucking souls. Dean was walking through the hallways of the bunker back to his room when he heard it.

_ “It can be just you and I,” Amara’s voice whispered from behind him, before the Darkness herself came into view. “We’ll be ruling the world together.” _

Dean stumbled, hand wildly hitting the wall and grasping it. He breathed deeply once, shaking his head to try and clear it.

_ He was frozen, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and the sight in front of him was only serving to make the situation worse. _

Dean blinked rapidly, the hallways of the bunker fading from his vision. He made his way to his room almost completely by memory. As soon as the door shut behind him, he fell, quickly repositioning himself so the door was against his back. 

_ Blackness. Complete, and utter blackness, for as far as Dean could see. Distantly, he knew what he was looking at was the earth, and that it wasn’t just covered in fog or whatever, but that the entire world had been consumed by Amara’s hunger, until her powers had overtaken the planet, leaving it to look like this… desolate. Barren. A wasteland.  _

Dean shivered, cold seeping into his bones. He curled up, desperately trying to preserve warmth, but it wasn’t enough. His eyes flicked around the room, trying to convince himself that the bunker was there. 

_ “We… we won’t let you do this,” Dean said, but the effect of his words were greatly diminished by the fact that he had to practically squeeze them out anyway.  _

_ Amara hummed, sounding amused. “Really? Because Dean,” She crooned, stroking her face with a cold hand.  _

_ Dean flinched.  _

Dean’s fingers dug into his temples, hoping that the pain would clear his mind. 

_ “There is no ‘we.’ There’s only you, and I. And you, will be helping me, feeding me…” _

_ Out of nowhere, Sam and Cas appeared, and Dean felt his heart jump at the sight of them. _

_ “Sam!” He yelled, trying to get their attention. “Cas!”  _

“No,” He moaned, indents from his fingernails starting to dig under the skin. He had to warn them. He had to save them.

_ They both turned to Dean, the movement too slow, however. Almost zombie-like.  _

_ Their eyes carried this deep sense of betrayal that, while confused Dean, still made him feel like someone punched his lungs out.  _

_ “Why, Dean?” Cas spoke, stepping forward. _

_ “How could you do this to us,” Sam asked. _

_ “What–I don’t–” _

Dean’s whole body shook, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

“Dean!” He heard Sam yell, but he was too far gone in the tendrils of Amara’s grasp to do anything.

_ And then, simultaneously, they turned to Amara, and their mouths stretched wide, a sort of gagging noise escaping them, and then a bright light started floating out of their mouths, Cas’s more brighter than Sam’s, his eyes glowing blue in the process. _

_ No. _

“No! Don’t you dare touch them!”

_ “No!” Dean yelled, and he tried to run forward, but he abruptly had no control of his body, because instead of running forward, his lips stretched into a grin, a cruel imitation of a smile, as he crossed his arms, and moved to stand beside Amara, slightly behind her, even as she consumed his brother and best friends’ souls.  _

The pounding continued, but Dean grasped at his head, blood and tears now running down his face, the sound of his cries drowning out Sam’s worried shouts. 

_ She let go of whatever power was holding them up, and Sam and Cas collapsed to the ground, lifeless. _

_ Dean yelled out… but not a squeak escaped his lips. He continued to stand beside Amara, watching silently as Dark tendrils crept towards Sam and Cas, curling over their bodies, blanketing them, enveloping them… _

_ The tendrils dropped to the ground, and with it, Sam and Cas’s bodies were gone.  _

Dean gasped, his lungs working so hard to keep up with his rapid breaths. His chest ached, feeling like it was caving in. It felt like he was dying.

He threw his hand out, wildly searching for something to grasp, to try and ground himself. 

His hand felts something cold and smooth, and he clutched it tightly, trying to focus on the feel of it in his hand. It survived for only a moment, shattering in his hands and tight grip.

He shivered, the cold from Amara’s wasteland still clinging to him, numbness quickly spreading throughout his body. 

Sam and Cas’ soulless, lifeless bodies flashed in his eyes, and Dean remembered his happiness, his apathy towards them and he just - how could he - he  _ needed  _ to know that there was something there. 

He needed to  _ see _ that his heart wasn’t made of stone. Needed to know that Amara hadn’t sucked his humanity out right along with Cas and Sam’s.

His shirts ripped apart under his frantic fingers, Dean quickly finding his way to his heaving chest, slick with sweat underneath all the layers.

The shards of glass in his hands were covered in blood -  _ his  _ blood - but he couldn’t bring himself to care, too desperate to know if everything was still there.

He dug the glass into his skin, lungs feeling like they were about to collapse under the weight of his apathy. 

Dean had to know, needed to see that nothing was missing, worry closing his throat that Amara had taken something vital from him. 

The glass was clenched too tightly in his hands, blood slicking the sharp material, but Dean was too panicked to care. His chest felt too  _ empty _ .

His hands trembled and his chest heaved, but his fingers still dug the glass further under his skin, needing to know if Amara put something there, something that took away his control, forced him to help her, something that took away his love for his brother and friends. 

The glass dug sharply deeper, blood exiting his body quickly, too quickly. 

But if he died, he wouldn’t be able to help Amara. Wouldn’t doom Sam and Cas. He wouldn’t betray their trust, wouldn’t watch them lose their souls and their lives to the Darkness.

Mind made up, he dug the glass even deeper, flinching as it hit something hard. He choked on a cry, knowing that he had hit his stone cold heart. If he just kept digging...

He would bleed out for Sam and Cas, would bleed out so they didn’t have to suffer his mistakes.

But his vision started to fade out around the edges, and despite his frantic attempts, his fingers stopped responding to him, feeble attempts to keep going starting to fade.

His strength quickly left him, leaving with the red blood, and he fell over sideways, body finally letting the door open behind him. Through his darkening vision, Dean saw Sam race into the room, but he couldn’t hear anything other than the pounding of his slowing heart beat. 

“S’my,” he tried anyway. “Lemme die.”

Blackness. 

* * *

When he came to, for a second, all Dean could see was white. A blindingly painful white, which prompted him to blink, once, twice, before he was eventually able to keep his eyes open, albeit at a squint.

Frowning, Dean tried to assess himself, wondering what the hell was going on. Even while thinking, he tried to push himself up – because apparently, he was lying down – only to cut short the action with a pained groan, his hand automatically flying to his chest.

“Dean?”

Blinking, Dean turned his head, and oh, he was lying on a bed, and came face to face with his brother. 

“Sammy?”

“Dean!” Sam said, quickly leaning closer. 

His brother looked like crap, and Dean wasn’t hesitant to say so.

Sam let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Well you should take a look in the mirror sometime, Dean, ‘cause you aren’t looking too good yourself either.”

Dean tried to sit up again, but was stopped by Sam’s hand on his chest. He rolled his eyes but stayed down anyway. “Yeah, I think I got the gist of that… What happened?” And while he was admittedly reluctant to find out… Dean was pretty sure he would rather know what happened instead of being left in the dark, especially because he had a strong feeling that Amara was somehow involved. There was no way Dean was going to miss out on any details on that front.

“Dean… You were… I don’t think you realized what you were doing, but you stabbed yourself, Dean. You dug all the way to your rib.” And damn it, even the wound that was being described to him didn’t hurt as much as the absolute agony on his little brother’s face. 

“Oh.” It was all Dean managed to squeeze out. 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “‘Oh?’ That’s all you can say, Dean? ‘ _ Oh _ ?’” Abruptly, Sam pushed himself upright, the chair screeching as it slid back a few inches. “Dean, you weren’t even… you were out of it, man! Hell, for all that I couldn’t even find any hexbags on you or traces of  _ anything _ , and you still tried to kill yourself, Dean!”

Dean flinched at his little brother’s sudden anger, a sinking feeling in his gut.

He tried to kill himself. That… was nothing new. But at Sammy’s words, slowly, his hallucination, dream, whatever, started to trickle back into his brain, and it brought back the absolutely cold misery that Dean had almost carved himself up to get out.  

What Dean was a little more concerned about, however? 

His brother found him, and yeah, sure, Sammy saved his life… But there was no way Dean was going to like wherever this conversation would lead.

“You told me to let you  _ die _ !” Sam’s voice cracked at the end, and yeah, that was definitely the sign that Dean didn’t need to know that it was time to nip this little chat right in the bud.

“Whatever, it’s not like it’s the first time,” Dean said, voice raspy as he shrugged. “No need to get your fancy pants in a twist, Sammy. I can take care of it myself, been doing it for this long, haven’t I?” He tried for a smile, but it was as broken as the look in Sam’s eyes when Dean raised his head to look at his brother.

Sam collapsed back down onto his chair, his face having gone pale. “‘ _ It’s not the first time?’ _ Dean, what the  _ fuck _ ?” He stilled, shock evident in his entire body. 

Dean pressed his palm to his face. That… was not something he had meant to let slip.

“Nevermind, Sammy. I’m just tired, dunno what I’m saying and all that. Probably should get back to sleep–”

“You’ve been asleep for hours, Dean!” Sam yelled, his hands clutching the armrests of his chair. “So don’t you dare lie to me that you need any more rest, not without giving me a goddamn explanation! So tell me, what the hell did you mean that ‘ _ it’s not the first time _ ’?” 

“What the hell do you want me to say, Sam?” Dean snapped, anger releasing from in one surge, only to leave him feeling immediately drained. 

“The truth!” Sam yelled, concern overwhelmed by anger. But then he paused, and Dean could just see the gears spinning in his brother’s head, as much as for once he rather wished it wasn’t. “Is that what Benny meant?” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Dean frowned, confused at the abrupt topic change. “What?”

“In Purgatory,” Sam said, his voice low. To Dean’s growing dread, Sam was starting to tear up. “He told me to keep an eye on you… he knew, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean was quick to retort, and yet, he couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes for some goddamn reason. 

Sam wasn’t oblivious to that either. “He knew.” Sam repeated, but with too much conviction for Dean’s comfort. “That this wasn’t your first time… he knew about whatever happened earlier, didn’t he? That’s why he said that – that you wouldn’t be in the ‘best of places’ at times.”

Dean couldn’t breathe. So he did the only thing he could, which was apparently to fight back. “I don’t need a goddamn babysitter, Sam! I can take care of myself!” Dean snapped, surprised that Benny would say something to Sam. He hadn’t even been that bad in Purgatory. Sure, there were some times he had… forgotten to defend himself, but he had never actively  _ tried _ .

But somehow, something must have clued Benny in, otherwise Benny wouldn’t have tried to warn Sam to keep an eye on him. 

Dean searched his memory, trying to figure out when Benny had been clued in, only to come up with absolutely nothing. Other than Purgatory, there was nothing that Benny could have known about, not unless he’d been with Dean before Sammy came…

Dean could have scoffed at the thought, even as his heart momentarily skipped a beat. Benny hadn’t even known where he was, there wasn’t the slightest chance that he could have known what Dean was up to.

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean said, voice gruff as he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Nothing happened – nothing was gonna happen. You’re reading too much into this, Sam.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam said, his voice challenging, and Dean Did Not Like This At All. “Then explain to me why you were trying to kill yourself, and how I’m not supposed to start thinking my brother’s been  _ suicidal _ for this long and I hadn’t even noticed till now!”

Dean flinched. “I’m–I’m not–” 

Dean stopped short, blinking. He felt like he was about to throw up as he came to a horrifying realization.

Suicidal.

He’d never actually… Never considered it like that.

_ Blaze of glory, _ wasn’t that what he’d always say?

When did ‘blaze of glory’ end up being by his own hand?

And as if realizing that he’d just brought the world crashing down around his brother, Sam settled down on the bed beside Dean, face softened. “Dean, talk to me, man… you can’t just keep these kind of things inside yourself, it’s not healthy–”

Dean’s head practically snapped to the side in his urgency to look away, as if trying to put some distance between him and Sammy without actually moving. “I know that.” ‘Cause he was sure he could practically recite Sam’s words for him by now. 

And yet, though he really should have expected it, Dean was still surprised when Sam went on, seemingly ignoring Dean’s words. “And I need you with me, Dean. If anything happens to you, I’m not gonna be able to take it. So I’d rather you lay it on me right now, before – so that we can at least try to prevent anything like this from happening again, you know?”

Dean closed his eyes, as if that would stop his little brother’s words from hitting him. “Sam,” He said, before he trailed off. He didn’t even know where to start, what to say. 

Sam sighed. “Why don’t we – just… be honest with me, ok? Can you do that for me, Dean?” Sam asked, looking Dean right in the eye.

After a moment, Dean slowly nodded, hesitant. He didn’t think he could speak, not when it felt like there was a stone lodged firmly in his throat.

“Alright.” Sam exhaled loudly, rubbing his hands over his jeans. Dean could tell he was nervous about this, even if he tried to hide it for Dean’s sake. “Alright,” he repeated. “Okay. So. When did this start?”

And yeah, okay, Dean knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but he didn’t expect Sam to just jump into it without any warning whatsoever, dammit.

Still, Dean did remember his first time, but he didn’t want to tell Sam. Not when Sam’s disappearance was the cause of it. He knew Sam would blame himself, and he didn’t want Sam to – it wasn’t Sam’s fault, it was Dean’s. 

“Sam… Sammy, are you sure?” Dean asked quietly, despite knowing that Sam wouldn’t back down. “I – You’re not going to like it.” He confessed to his hands, which were now scrunching up the blanket in his lap.

Sam ran his hand through his hair in tired frustration, mussing it up a little bit. “Dean, I  _ know _ I’m not gonna like it. But we have to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’ve got to know.”

“I…” Dean started, squeezing his eyes shut. “Flagstaff,” He finally admitted in a quiet voice as if that would soften the blow any. 

Dean heard Sam inhale sharply, but Dean couldn’t look Sam in the eye. “It wasn’t your fault, Sammy. I just – you were – you were  _ gone _ , and  _ I couldn’t find you _ . I didn’t know where you were, I looked for  _ two weeks _ , and Dad – Dad found you in less than a day. He didn’t even finish the hunt, and he – he was so  _ mad _ .”

“Dean,” Sam said, voice unsteady. His huge hands cupped Dean’s face, forcing Dean to look at him. “Dean,” Sam started again once they finally made eye contact. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Dean swallowed, his eyes closing, trying to prevent the tears from falling down his face. If he lost it now… there was no way he was going to be able to control himself. “It’s not like it was your fault,” Dean croaked, jaw moving in Sam’s hands, still unable to look at his brother.

“Dean,” Sam started, only for Dean to shake his head, speaking over him. He tugged his head back, opening his eyes, only to stare down at his hands.

“There were a couple of other times when…”

“How many?” Sam interrupted, swallowing and trying to visibly steel himself.  

And Dean would have rolled his eyes if he had it in himself to be the tiniest bit amused at that moment. Since he didn’t, all he could do was hesitate. “I… don’t know, Sammy.” He grit his teeth. “Too many, probably.” Dean pushed out.

Sam’s eyes closed, physically leaning back as he tried to regain his composure. “Just. Tell me everything. That you can remember.”

“Sammy–”

“Please.” Sam cut in, his eyes opening, and Dean stopped short at the absolute misery in his brother’s hazel eyes. “I need to know, Dean.” Sam repeated quietly.

Dean sighed, slumping. “Stanford. The night you left. And… there were times when I was, you know, hunting by myself…”

“Jesus Christ.” Sam whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. “So… Benny was right. This was because of me.”

“ _ No _ !”  Dean said, sharply. “ _ Jesus _ , no. Just... No. Sam, this has never been because of you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam pushed again, but instead of seeming defiant, he just looked broken now. 

Crowley was right. No one could hate Dean more than himself at that point, for being the reason of putting that look on his little brother’s face, the one he was always supposed to protect. Dean would never let him come to harm…

Except look at what Dean was doing now, crushing his brother little by little every time he uttered a word. 

“You needed to leave, Sammy. I’ve never blamed you for leaving. I was just… too weak to do it without you or Dad.”

“Dean, maybe you should have blamed me, instead of trying to kill yourself!”

“I could never blame you.”

Dean’s honest admission brought Sam up short.

He let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head, momentarily breaking eye contact with Dean.

“And that’s where you made a mistake. I’d rather have you mad at me, Dean, than dead.” And he turned to look back at Dean with watery eyes. “You of all people should have known that.”

Dean turned away again. “I still stand by what I said, Sam. You weren’t… It’s not like you had anything to do with it. Hell, the next time,” And it felt like swallowing nails to get this next part out, but he pushed it out anyway. He blatantly ignored how he was skipping some crucial details, going back on his promise to stick with the absolute truth that he didn’t even make minutes ago to Sam. “Man, I tried once in Purgatory. No, that’s not right,” He immediately amended. “I got hurt. You know what it’s like there. I… almost didn’t take care of it. But then I did, for you, Sammy, for you! So don’t you dare tell me that it’s your fault when you helped me live–”  _ Even if I didn’t want to at times.  _ He managed to stop himself before he actually let those words slip out, though.

However, Sam didn’t seem to accept Dean’s attempt at placation as easily. “And what about when I was in the Cage? When you were with Lisa? God, Dean, if me leaving for Stanford almost made you  _ kill _ yourself, what was it like when I was in Hell?” Sam leaned forwards as if calling Dean on his bullshit. 

Dean hated his brother just a little for bringing that up. He rubbed at his face harshly, giving himself a moment to try and regain his rapidly shattering composure. Scratch that, it had already long been destroyed, and trying to rebuild it into any sort of semblance as to how it looked before was starting to take its toll on him. Sometimes, he hated how intuitive his little brother could be.

“Dean?”

“It was torture.” Dean eventually replied, blinking rapidly at the memory. He leaned his head back, swallowing thickly as he stared at the ceiling through blurred vision. “Screw you for making me promise to live, Sam. You have no idea how many times I…” Dean clenched his jaw, refusing to look away from the ceiling.

“Dean…” Sam started, and then stopped. His voice sounded thick, and Dean didn’t have to look to know that Sam was trying to control himself before he could make an attempt to respond. “You know what, I’m not going to regret asking you to promise me that, Dean. I’m not. It kept you here. It kept you alive. So… hate me as much as you want,” And screw his brother again, for actually sounding like he was milliseconds away from crying. “But I’m not going to regret asking you to live, Dean.”

Dean stilled, before slowly starting to lower his head in order to meet Sam’s gaze, his own expression of disbelief. “So what, it was okay for you to force me to live, but not when I tried to do the same for you?”

Sam blinked, visibly taken aback with the abrupt change on topic. Distantly, Dean knew that he was only digging his hole deeper, but there was no way he was going to back out of this now, not when he had given into his anger, fueled by desperation at this point.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Gadreel, Sam. I’m talking about Gadreel – and yeah, Gadreel definitely didn’t turn out to be who he said, and I can’t get past what he done – what he made you do – just as much as you can’t, but if he made you live? Then I’m not going to regret that, Sammy.” He scathingly repeated Sam’s own words back to him.

Sam’s understanding gaze turned hard. “Don’t you dare bring that into this–”

“Shouldn’t I? Or you want me to be honest, ‘cause you did just ask me to a while ago, didn’t you?” And just as quickly, that had Sam’s face going through a whirlwind of expressions before it settled back on horrified realization, even though Dean could tell that his brother was silently asking Dean to deny the suspicions he’d already come to… the suspicions that Dean wasn’t going to deny, not when it was the truth.

“Did you – did you try then, too?” Sam didn’t even wait for Dean to reply, already certain that he was right. “Oh God, Dean,  _ fuck. _ ”

Dean sighed, his anger deciding to ditch out on him just as quickly as it had come again. “No, I had a kill list first. And after that… well, then I knew that I’d just turn into a demon. So as much as I wanted to… It was a no-go, when I had the Mark. I couldn’t risk that happening again, Sammy.” And with those words, Dean deflated. He couldn’t take this any more… Not today, at least.

“I need a break,” Dean said. Sam opened his mouth, trying to say something, but Dean just held a hand up to stop him. “Not. Nothing like what you’re thinking, okay. I just. I need to get some rest Sam, and I don’t care that I’ve been out for hours, but if you wanna keep talking, then fine. Go ahead. But it’s gonna start being a very one-sided conversation if you don’t let me knock out right now.”

Sam was about to argue, but he must have been able to see the exhaustion in every part of Dean that he knew was apparent, and hence accepted defeat. “Fine. But we’re gonna talk about this later, alright? And no getting out of it.” Sam stood and walked to the doorway. 

Dean rolled his eyes, already starting to lean backwards. “I can’t wait,” He said dryly. 

Sam paused at the threshold, but then he must have come to a decision because he walked out without another word. 

An eyebrow skeptically raised, Dean nonetheless shrugged, ready to call it a day, when Sam came back in anyway, carrying an extra pillow and blanket. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked flatly.

“I’m gonna keep you company,” Sam replied simply, throwing the blanket and pillow to the floor, before he started to reposition it to his liking.

“I’m not gonna try anything right now, Sam!” Dean groaned. “Go sleep on your bed before you screw your back.”

But Sam shook his head. “I don’t care that you’re not gonna do ‘anything’ right now, Dean. But you need to know, you’re not gonna try ‘anything’ ever again, Dean,” Sam said, everything about him serious. “Because you’re gonna talk to me. I don’t care what’s going on around us, but you come to me, you got that? It can be the friggin’ apocalypse,  _ again _ , or we could be on opposite sides of the country, but you’re talking to me, you got that? You come to me, to Cas, whoever, but you’re gonna stay alive.” Sam paused, before continuing with a determined look on his face. “Or I swear to God, I’m just gonna follow you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, staring at his brother, unable to do anything for a solid few seconds. Eventually, all he could manage was a shaky nod, but that must have been enough for Sam anyway, because he nodded as well, a short, jerky movement as he acknowledged Dean’s silent promise, before he laid down. 

It took a few minutes for Dean to get his body to respond, but he eventually managed to lie back down as well, though he kept his eyes open and trained on his brother. As much as Sam was breathing heavily, Dean knew his brother hadn’t fallen asleep yet either.

It took ages for Dean to fall asleep, despite his lethargy. Until the last second, though, Sam’s words kept Dean company in his mind.

_ “You’re gonna stay alive. Or I swear to God, I’m just gonna follow you, Dean.” _

 

**Author's Note:**

> kaen: well. it started as a 5+1… then it was a 7+1… and now we’re here.  
> AW3111: Are you complaining? Also, to the readers out there… there is a chance that kaen’s gonna write a wincest twist to this (as in maybe rewrite the ending into wincest) whilst I might do a destiel twist, for those of you who are interested. Before I go on, NO FUCKING HATE, GOT IT?! And secondly, let us know if you’d be interested in that. If not, y’all can keep your cakeholes shut.  
> kaen: DONT SAY THAT NOW THEY MIGHT BE EXPECTING THE ALTERNATE ENDINGS. by the way, y’all should thank me cause AW3111 was gonna try and end the fic BEFORE the whole conversation with sam and dean, but i made her continue it. so, you’re welcome  
> AW3111: I wasn’t gonna end it! I was just… unsure. As to how to continue. So I needed the motivation you know  
> kaen: she was totally gonna end it  
> AW3111: I needed a little boost is all. And I may have been complaining, but least as I did it, which I couldn’t have without you  
> kaen: awwwwww. so have we gotten to the part of the notes where we tell each other that they’re awesome and we couldn’t have done it without all the cheerleading?  
> AW3111: Also, if they expect it, thats cool and all… I’ll still eventually figure out how/when to write it myself (and if i want to) *cough cough* and yep we have. Dude we should stop else our notes is gonna end up being longer than the actual fic  
> kaen: well. we all know how long it takes me to actually write a fic. and you right ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> AW3111: Course I am. And yes, I think we all know at this point… shall we get to posting now, my dear?  
> kaen: we shall. and thanks for reading!  
> AW3111: What she said^^^


End file.
